Iggy Mia!
by pucklovessbrina23
Summary: Parody of Mama Mia. In his past, Arthur Kirkland slept with three different men very close together and any could be his son's, Peter, father. What will Peter do when he is getting married? Ships: USUK, SealandxSeychelle, LietPol, Franada, and Giripan. FrUk and EnglandxJapan mentioned
1. Hey Dads

**AN: Hello readers! So this story is basically just Mamma Mia! but as USUK. If you guys have any ships you want seen, please let me know and I will try to do it. So just a reminder the ships are as follows: SealandxSeychelle, UKUS, Franada, LietPol, and Giripan. Metioned Fruk and EnglandxJapan. Enjoy!**

Peter walked to the mailbox, three envelopes, ready to be sent. He smiled giddily at the box as he slid the addressed letters in. He read the names to himself.

_Alfred Jones_

_Francis Bonnefoy_

_Kiku Honda_

This was going to be spectacular.

-Time Lapse-

Peter stood himself at the edge of the dock, waiting for his friends to arrive. What was it, five years, since he last saw them? A boat stopped, promptly causing giggles of happiness to rise from Peter's mouth. A young shaggy haired blonde boy and caramel eyed girl ran towards him, squeals filling the ar.

"Raivis! Paulette*! You guys, just . . . Arrggh! It's been too long!", Peter screamed. The friends squeezed him on either side, smiling wildly.

"You're getting married!" said Raivis in his ridiculously Russian accent. Peter nodded eagerly.

"And Michelle** is such a wonderful girl. . . but not as great as me of course . . .", stated Paulette. Peter rolled his eyes at the girl's ardent tendencies.

"Well anyways, I have some important information for you guys," he said nervously. The boy's and girl's eyes widened.

"Is she pregnant?" asked Paulette, in regards to Michelle.

"No! Well . . . not that I know of," Peter paused, wondering if his fiancée could possibly be knocked up but shook the idea off. "So, I've invited my other father to the wedding."

"You finally found him?" questioned Raivis. Peter shook his head and bit his lip.

"Not exactly . . ." he stated and pulled his friend over to a nearby rock. The lightest blonde reached into his backpack, pulling out a notebook.

"I found my dad's journal he wrote when he was pregnant with me," he said as he opened to the first page. Paulette and Raivis looked on expectantly.

"July 15th," began Peter, "Alfred took me off to the island today," he stopped to state that they were currently on said island, receiving some smirks.

"We shared a wonderful night of dancing and swimming, despite his overall cockishness as a person. We kissed in the sand and . . ." Peter stopped, glancing back and forth between his friends.

"Well what happens next, huh?" pressed Paulette.

"I think the dots are . . . well . . . supposed to mean they did it," shuddered Peter, thinking of his father having sex. They all laughed hardly. Peter picked up the book and ran over to a rock, adding some theatricality to the reading.

_Honey honey, how you thrill me, ah-hah, honey honey_

_Honey honey, nearly kill me, ah-hah, honey honey_

_I'd heard about you before_

_I wanted to know some more_

_And now I know what they mean, you're a love machine_

_Oh, you make me dizzy_

_Honey honey, let me feel it, ah-hah, honey honey_

_Honey honey, don't conceal it, ah-hah, honey honey_

_The way that you kiss goodnight_

_(The way that you kiss me goodnight)_

_The way that you hold me tight_

_(The way that you're holding me tight)_

_I feel like I wanna sing when you do your thing_

They all ran down the next rock, plopping down and reading some more.

"So, this Alfred is your dad?" asked Raivis. Peter again shook his head.

"I don't know," he admitted sheepishly. Raivis raised an eyebrow.

"But-" he said, Peter's finger cutting him off.

"But there is more! We must read on!" he shouted with vigor.

"Alfred has told me has a committed boyfriend back home, a Russian of some sorts. Disgusting commie. He is leaving tomorrow, never to be seen again."

"Ah, poor Artie," said Paulette. Peter just smiled, knowing what's next.

"August 5th," he read on, "What a man! What a night. A Frenchman, Francis, entered town a couple of nights ago. They don't lie about the French passion. Although he is completely pig headed and arrogant and I miss Alfred painfully, he is something. We went to the island today and . . ."

Raivis chuckled.

"Your dad's a slut!" he stated.

"August 12th," started up better once more, "Kiku. How do I describe Mr. Kiku Honda. He is quiet, but strong. He is subtle, but meaningful. Much nicer than the Frenchman or the American. I took him to the infamous island and . . ."

"Your dad is a super duper slut!" yelled Paulette. Unable to disagree, Peter bobbed his head in a sign of agreement. As if his ears were burning, the one and only bushy browed Arthur Kirkland stepped in.

"Oh my, Paulie and Raivis! How are the greatest friends ever? Having fun here on my island?" said the Brit. The three nodded mischievously.

"Oh yes, Mr. Kirkland," giggled Paulette.

"But not as much as you," said Raivis, receiving a punch from Peter. Arthur gave the trio a confused stare put left anyways. The said trio went back to the journal.

_Honey honey, touch me, baby, ah-hah, honey honey_

_Honey honey, hold me, baby, ah-hah, honey honey_

_You look like a movie star_

_(You look like a movie star)_

_But I know just who you are_

_(I know just who you are)_

_And, honey, to say the least, you're a dog-gone beast_

Peter slammed the journal shut and guided his friends up to his room.

"So who is your dad, Alfred, Francis, or Kiku?" Paulette asked once she had comfyied herself on the bed.

"I don't know yet," explained Peter.

"Okay, so who did you invite?" retaliated Raivis. Peter bit his lip and turned away.

"You didn't!" the Russian yelled. Peter shrugged.

"It'll work out fine, don't worry," he said.

"Do they know the reason they are coming?" asked Paulette.

"Nope! I told them dad sent the invites. So, obviously they all hoped on over to Greece!" exclaimed Peter.

"You're so naughty sometimes," said Paulette, giving Peter a nice ass slap.

_Honey honey, how you thrill me, ah-hah, honey honey_

_Honey honey, nearly kill me, ah-hah, honey honey_

_I heard about you before_

_I wanted to know some more_

_And now I know what they mean, you're a love machine_

Peter exited onto his balcony.

_I heard about you before_

_I wanted to know some more _

_And now I'm about to see _

_What you mean to me_

Peter watched as Paulette and Raivis adjusted their clothes for the wedding. A soft knock came on the door and a shy looking tanned girl entered.

"Michelle!" yelled out Paulette, running and nearly tackling the other girl. Michelle responded with a gentle squeeze back.

"Well, if it isn't my blushing bride!" said Peter, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"It is her! And you pinned Paulette's dress incorrectly," Michelle said, pinning it up the right way and giving the Asian girl a pat on the shoulder. Paulette stepped away.

"I thought you were supposed to be off with the rest of the girls planning your last night of freedom," stated Peter.

"I need a few things," she responded. Peter laughed and wrapped his arms around his bride.

"Will I still have a bride by tonight?" he asked. The girl in the blue dress shrugged.

"Only if you give me a perfect kiss right now," Michelle chirped. Peter pounded his lips on to hers.

"Did it work?" he asked. She gave another shrug.

"We will have to see!" she said, before bouncing out of the room.

Arthur drove his beaten up truck towards the dock. He could hear them already. A Canadian bounced off the boat, a Polish man trailing gently behind him. Arthur parked his car and ran towards them.

"Get ready to have your mind and genitals blown!" he quoted himself.

"By Arthur and Axels!" completed the pair. The men ran down toward their friend. They combined in an awkward threesome hug.

"Sleep all day and fuck all night!" they screamed at each other.

"Mattie, Feliks! How are my original drinking buddies?" Arthur asked.

"Rich!" yelled the Canadian, Matthew as he reached into his bag and pulled out his new bestseller, _101 Thing to Do with Maple Syrup. _

"Slutty!" screamed the Pole, needing no evidence but him. They got into the rickety car and drove back to Arthur's hotel. As they pulled up to the spot, Michelle stepped out to greet them.

"Gentlemen, it's the beauty, Michelle. Michelle these are my back-ups," said Arthur as the dark haired girl approached the car.

"Back-ups!?" screamed Matthew and Feliks.

"Hello, nice to meet you," said Michelle quietly.

"Damn, you are hot," said the green eyed Polish man. Matthew smacked Feliks upside the head promptly.

Arthur lead his former band mates up a steep hill, the most fabulous of the three sighing deeply with each step. Peter heard the steps and peaked out his balcony.

"Uncle Matt! Uncle Feliks. Bloody hell, I've missed you guys!" he said, running the stairs to them.

"Oh my god, look at you! You're not my little baby nephew anymore," stated Matthew as he hugged his non biological nephew. Peter stepped in front of Feliks and bear hugged him, then showing both through the maze of hanging laundry.

"I'm sorry for the mess, chaps. I just can't handle all this," Arthur sighed as he watched Peter prance off and showed the Canadian and Pole their room.

"But you have to pay the bills," stated Feliks, "Well I don't. . . but you do."

"Lord, do I know it," responded the light blonde haired man. He went to open a window, the framing falling off. He grunted and released a shout.

_I work all night, I work all day, to pay the bills I have to pay_

_Ain't it sad_

_And still there never seems to be a single penny left for me_

_That's too bad_

"Don't sit there, it's broken," Arthur said as Matthew tried to sit on a chair.

_In my dreams I have a plan_

_If I got me a wealthy man_

_I wouldn't have to work at all, I'd fool around and have a ball..._

_Money, money, money_

_Must be funny_

_In the rich man's world_

_Money, money, money_

_Always sunny_

_In the rich man's world_

The pair of friends stood above the Brit, Matt holding up cash and Feliks had an array of credit cards.

_Aha-ahaaa_

_All the things I could do_

_If I had a little money_

_It's a rich man's world_

A crowd of Greek workers had seem to have began to follow them.

_A man like that is hard to find but I can't get him off my mind_

_Ain't it sad_

_And if he happens to be free I bet he wouldn't fancy me_

_That's too bad_

_So I must leave, I'll have to go_

_To Las Vegas or Monaco_

_And win a fortune in a game, my life will never be the same..._

_Money, money, money_

_Must be funny_

_In the rich man's world_

_Money, money, money_

_Always sunny_

_In the rich man's world_

_Aha-ahaaa_

_All the things I could do_

_If I had a little money_

_It's a rich man's world_

_Money, money, money_

_Must be funny_

_In the rich man's world_

_Money, money, money_

_Always sunny_

_In the rich man's world_

_Aha-ahaaa_

_All the things I could do_

_If I had a little money_

_It's a rich man's world_

_It's a rich man's world_

The ground shook, causing a split in the cement under the trio's feet. Feliks released a high pitched scream while Matthew just jumped.

"Calm down you gits. It happens all the time," Arthur raged, grabbing some laundry and walking on.

Three men of varying ages and cultures stepped off a boat, sauntering down the dock and into the hotel. Peter approached them.

"Hello there! How may I help you?" said Peter as he set down a box. The blonde man with glasses stepped up.

"Wow, you're really British for a Greek. We are here for the wedding. I'm Alfred Jones," he cheered with energy. The next man took a step forward, golden locks flowing freely around his face and some stubble adorning his chin.

"Francis Bonnefoy, monsieur," he glided out in a thick French accent. The last man stepped towards Peter. He had thin black hair and deep chocolate eyes.

"Herro, I'm Kiku Honda," he said, also thickly accented. Peter couldn't catch his breath. One of these men was his dad. Honestly, he had no idea which. Blue eyes glance from face to face, stunned.

"We were supposed to come, right dude?" asked the glasses bearing blonde. He nodded speedily.

"Are you Arthur's son?" the Frenchman asked. Again, just a nod was given.

"But Artie is gay!" yelled Alfred. Finally, Peter spoke up.

"Oh, uh, yeah, he still is. I'm sure you've all heard of the gene that allows men to get pregnant," he rushed out. The Japanese and Frenchman nodded, the American just scratching his head.

"Uh, yep, he has that. And I'm the product of that. Oh yeah! I'm Peter, by the way," Peter said. As the American still scratched his head, the Frenchman smiled.

"I have an uncle named Peter. He lived on the mainland before he died," he said. Peter gave a small smile.

"Let me show to your room and then I'll get my dad," he stated, leading Kiku, Alfred, and Francis off to the boathouse. Peter kept the fake smile as they walked on. This might not go as planned.

*** Paulette is the Principality of Wy**

****Michelle is Seychelle**


	2. They're Back

**AN: Heylo everybody, it's Dr. Nick! So new chapter down(obviously) and I somehow ended up with three songs in this chapter when I only wanted one, really. Ah well. Just a quick note, any songs by any member of Arthur and the Axels is supposed to be sung with a Greenday like punk rock tone. But it's ABBA, you say? Swedish flower power girl bands can't be punk rock, you say? Too bad! If you have a problem, take it up with the Kirklands! Enjoy! **

The men followed their guide, Peter, through the most secluded part of the hotel. Branches gave them slaps along their bodies.

"So dude, are we going anywhere specific or just enjoying Greece?" Alfred questioned. Peter sighed.

"For the last time Mr. Jones, we are going to your rooms, it's just a long walk," he said for the hundredth time.

Arthur sat in between Matthew and Feliks, all three already drunk off the expensive wine the Pole had brought. Arthur stood, his legs wobbling around under him.

"Bleeding hell, I've got to go. I've got a crack in my hotel!" He yelled as he tried to run out of the room. Feliks's arm wrapped around his waist.

"You should, like, stay," he said, flipping his hair with his hand. The Brit thought about it, he could spare sometime with his friends. The blonde stumbled back onto the ancient couch.

"Honey, honestly with these surroundings, do you, like, want money? I could totally give you some," said Feliks. Matt nodded in agreement.

"I could spare a few hundred for you, Arthur. Do you need it?" asked the Canadian. Arthur shook his head.

"Oh, I'm fine. I could use a bit more but I'm fine," he explained. The polish man sighed.

"But, are you, like, being taken care of?" he forced on. The green eyed hotel owner raised an unmaintained eyebrow.

"What's that supposed to mean, Feliks?" he asked. Matthew giggled into his hand.

"Are you getting some?" replied Matthew. Arthur's grin expanded largely as he straddled his drill.

"Oh! You mean some of this," he stopped, flaring on his drill and causing hard chortles from his pals, "up my rear?" He pushed the gun down, switching it off.

"No, who needs it? I'm done with all that nonsense," Art said, chugging down some more wine.

Finally, they got to the stair case that led to an old boat house. The men took in the surroundings.

"Um, where are our actuar rooms?" asked Kiku. Francis chuckled.

"This is the room, _mon ami*_," he stated with a bemused grin. The "room" was just a boathouse, dust clinging to every inch with one blown up bed and the other two ready for inflation.

"So dude, can we please PLEASE see Artie now? I miss his eyebrows," whined the American. Peter gave them his signature lip bite.

"Mydaddoesn'tknowyourherebecauseIsentthe invites!" he screamed. All three men face palmed deeply.

"Hold up man, then I can't be here. Your dad told me I was banned from all of Greece the last time I saw him," stated Alfred.

"I think it would be best to arr reave. Arthur obviousry wouldn't want us here," breathed out the Asian sadly. Peter's eyes felt misty.

"No! Come on guys, it's been twenty years since my dad last saw you all. I'm sure he will be really excited to see you guys," Peter cheered. The Frenchman nodded.

"It's a _grande aventure**_! And besides, my boat is the only way you're getting out of here and I'm not letting you use it," Francis sung out gleefully.

"I guess we will be staying then," groaned Alfred.

"I mean, if you all came across the globe for a wedding of a couple you've never meet, my father must've been special to you guys. It's like a siren call," said Peter. All of the men blushed, Kiku most deeply. A hum ran through the room, caused by Arthur. He was downstairs. The guests shot up hopefully.

"Wait! No, not yet," Peter shouted, managing to push all of them back down, "Okay, I have to leave but . . . ah . . . stay here. Do NOT let anyone know you're here, promise?"

"Promise!" exclaimed Alfred, making a cross over his heart.

"But of course. Promise," whispered Francis.

"I will probably regret it rater but I promise," sighed Kiku. Peter smiled and began to board up the windows. As Peter jumped from the room, Arthur heard the footsteps above him and went to check out his loft. As he went to push up on the door, he quickly retreated, his heart stopping for almost long enough to kill him. They were there, all of them, in the same room, talking none the less. He peaked up again through a crack in the wood. It was like looking into the past. He noticed the stern Japanese man first.

"Kiku," He muttered to himself. His eyes flashed to the man lounging on the only bed in the room, said man scratching his beginning of a beard thoughtfully.

"F-francis," he stuttered quietly. And the last was the worst of all. An American was barking orders at the other two men and doing no work on the beds himself. Arthur couldn't muster his name, simply gasping. He jumped off the stairs, pacing the lower level of the boat house.

_I was cheated by you and I think you know when. _

_So I made up my mind, it must come to an end._

He rushed outside, throwing himself against a wall and shaking.

_Look at me now, will I ever learn?_

Arthur's mind flooded with memories of summers based and smirked to himself but stopped when he remembered the circumstances.

_I don't know how but I suddenly lose control_

_There's a fire within my soul_

_Just one look and I can hear a bell ring_

_One more look and I forget everything_

In a split decision, Arthur grabbed on to the ladder next to him and climbed to the roof.

_Mamma mia, here I go again_

_My my, how can I resist you?_

_Mamma mia, does it show again_

_My My, just how much I've missed you?_

_Yes, I've been broken-hearted_

_Blue since the day we parted_

_Why, why did I ever let you go?_

Arthur stared at the door down to where is ex-lovers were. He stomped towards it, causing Alfred, Francis, and Kiku to look for a source of the noise.

_Mamma mia, now I really know_

_My my, I should not have let you go_

_I was angry and sad when I knew we were through_

_I can't count all the times I have cried over you_

_Look at me now_

_Will I ever learn_

The Brit sighed, lying down next to the door, overcome with conflicting ideas and feelings.

_I don't know how_

_But I suddenly lose control_

_There's a fire within my soul._

_Just one look and I can hear a bell ring_

He tentatively brushed his hand against the handle but yanked it away as a fast as it got there.

_One more look and I forget everything_

Arthur stood up, almost falling off the roof. A crowd of the nosy Greeks he called a staff appeared around. God, they were so . . . Greek . . .

_Mamma mia, here I go again_

_My my, how can I resist you?_

_Mamma mia, does it show again_

_My, my, just how much I've missed you?_

With the workers watching, Arthur approached the door again, unsure if he was happy or angry with it.

_Yes, I've been brokenhearted_

_Blue since the day we parted_

_Why, why did I ever let you go?_

A taller, sea-eyed man in the crowd with a cat on his shoulder pushed his way forward and pried open the door. The middle aged gent in the center of it all dropped to his knees in front of it.

_Mamma mia, now I really know_

_My my, I should not have let you go_

With a small tap on the shoulder from the tall Greek, Arthur fell through the door without time to even ask '_What in bleeding fuck's name do you want?' _and splatted face down in to the room and on an air mattress, effectively deflating it. As his head rose, green meet brown and he was face to face with Kiku Honda, an air hose still in said Asian man's mouth.

"Wow, Artie! That was awesome man!" Alfred said in regards to the falling in of Arthur.

"This better be some dream," he whimpered, propping himself up on the deflated bed.

"Want a pinch, my love?" asked Francis, extending a hand. With simply no idea what else to do, Arthur just plain out laughed.

"Oh god, of course you would do that. Francis!" He smiled out. Kiku grinned very shyly.

"You haven't aged a day, Arthur-san," he said softly.

"Kiku Fucking Honda!" yelled Arthur, basically insane by this point but his senses snapped back soon.

"Why are you here? What bleeding hell is happening to me?" he shouted at them.

"I uh," stuttered Francis, the others just frozen.

"Wait, who told any of you this arrangement is okay? I have no room for you yankers right now!" The former punk rocker hollered on.

"Art, please, let us stay. You know what this island means to me," said Alfred in his classic charming way. His eyes locked with Arthur's intensely, but the English man pulled away.

"NO! There is a wedding going on here for a . . . a, uh, local bloke. Now out with you!" Arthur screamed and with that great note, he began to leave.

"It's great to see you," all three in the boathouse said in unison. Arthur stood with his mouth open for a second then closed it, but not without releasing a scream of rage. He stormed out dramatically.

"Well men, to the boat!" stated Francis.

A Lithuanian waiter licked his lips as he looked as Feliks. The Pole laughed.

"I'm, like, a cougar, but not that much," he stated, sipping on his margarita.

"But I'm 25! I'm not that young!" yelled the waiter, Toris, as said on his name tag. Feliks's eyes widened.

"I could, like, totally be your dad! Like, no, we can't date," he explained. The Canadian drinking his beer next to him rolled his eyes.

"You could be his granddad, Fel," he said with an amusement in his voice. Their little age discussion was interrupted by a frantic Brit. Arthur ran up in between them.

"Oh god, where is my Peter?" he asked the bartender.

"He's down on the beach," responded Toris. Arthur started to breathe heavily. Feliks and Matthew turned towards him.

"Like, what's wrong?" pondered the Polish man. Arthur didn't respond, simply running off to the bathrooms, a crying mess. His odd pair friends raced after him.

"Art!" shouted Matthew. They knocked on the stall and received pathetic wails in return. The Canadian jabbed his polish friend in the ribs, in an attempt to make him sing. The song was commonly used when they used to try to charm people into sex and was meant for women but it would have to do.

_Chiquitita, tell me what's wrong _started Matthew.

_I have never seen such sorrow _added the Pole. They joined into one chorus.

_In your eyes_

_and the wedding is tomorrow_

They stepped in front of the stall, Feliks on top of Matt's back.

_How I hate to see you like this_

Poland said this line and observed the cigarette in Arthur's hands and hesitated to sing more. As far as he knew, the Brit had quit the cancer sticks ages ago. Matthew removed his body from under Feliks, leaving the man dangling on the door and stood up Arthur, tossing his newly lit smoke in the toilet.

_There is no way you can deny it_

_I can see_

_That you're oh so sad, so quiet_

Arthur threw open the stall door, evidently slamming his Polish pal into the wall in the process. He ran to the large mirror, adjusting himself in it but the tears would not stop.

_Chiquitita, tell me the truth_

_I'm a shoulder you can cry on_

_Your best friend_

Matthew and Feliks got on each side of Arthur, supporting him. Arthur sighed, leaning his head on Matthew's shoulder.

_I'm the one you must rely on_

_You were always sure of yourself_

_Now I see_

_You've broken a feather_

_I hope_

_We can patch it up together_

_Chiquitita_

_You and I know_

Feliks filled his hands with pills from his man purse (although it's almost too feminine to have man in the title) and placed them in Arthur's mouth. The Brit dry swallowed as best as he could but nearly choked. Matthew took out his pocket sized bottle of maple syrup, handing it to Arthur for him to take a chug, which he gladly did.

_How the heartaches come and they go_

_And the scars they're leavin'_

_You'll be dancin' once again_

_And the pain will end_

_You will have no time for grievin'_

_Chiquitita_

_You and I cry_

_But the sun is still in the sky_

_And shining above you_

_Let me hear you sing once more_

_Like you did before_

_Sing a new song_

Arthur grabbed Matthew's beer, gulping down the remaining half. He sang the last notes of the song.

_Chiquitita_

_Try once more like you did before_

_Sing a new song_

_Chiquitita_

"Oh bloody hell, they're back!" he whimpered.

"Who's back?" asked the glasses bearing Canadian.

"Peter's dad," Arthur started, pausing to suck in a big breath of air, "You know how I used to say it was for sure the git who left me for the Russian, Alfred?" The men nodded in recognition.

"Well I'm not entirely sure now because there were two other men who I was . . . with . . . around the same time," he explained embarrassedly. Feliks smirked playfully.

"You're, like, so shady now!" there was a slight pause, "Good job, Mr. Arthur Kirkland!"

"How come you never told me, ay?" Matthew said in a hurt manor.

"I didn't think it mattered. Until they all popped up out of nowhere in my fucking boathouse!" the English man screeched, throwing his head in between his legs. Matthew and Feliks smiled at each other.

"Ah, excuse us," said the blue eyed blonde as they raced towards the boathouse. Arthur perked up at the exit and chased after them, trying to stop the forceful pair. They all arrived in the boat house, climbing the ladder to check for Arthur's suitors. The room was surprisingly vacant.

"Well . . . I guess they left," stated Arthur in shock.

"Are sure they were, like, even here?" asked Feliks. The green eyed man nodded feverishly.

"I would remember my own son's fathers!" he responded, "They were all here. Alfred Jones, Francis Bonnefoy, and Kiku Honda."

"Such multicultural men, Art," stated the Canadian. Arthur gave him a shove and paced down the stairs.

"I'm assuming they all got on Francis's boat and left. Good riddance, I say," rattled Arthur as he exited the house.

"I can't believe they would come here. It's like some fate trick," he muttered. The Greek man with the cats laughed loudly at the statement. Arthur whipped around, glaring at him. He immediately stopped and went back to sweeping.

Arthur paced in his room.

"Oh god, what if Peter finds out? This is it. They've all come back to destroy my son's wedding," he mumbled, biting on his thumb.

"I think Peter would, like, totally be cool with it," said Feliks. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Calm down, Art. The vicious men have left your island," said Matt in a joking tone. Arthur's eye brow twitched.

"But we don't know that! If I don't know why they're here, how can I know they've left!" he explained harshly but then softened into sadness, "It's my entire fault. If I hadn't been a first class **whore** in my teen years, none of this would be happening!"

"You're beginning to sound like your parents, Art," said Matthew with a grin. Arthur slammed his fist down.

"I don't!" he yelled back at his friends.

"Come one, you have totally been living like a nun. Whatever happened to, like, punk rock Arthur?" asked Feliks as he slipped an old leather jacket onto Arthur's shoulders.

"Yeah!" said Matthew in agreement as buttoned a "FUCK YOU" pin on Arthur's shirt.

"Well, I grew up and you idiots didn't!" Arthur said in annoyance. Feliks and Matthew began to shake their hips and sing a beat.

_You can dance_

_You can jive_

_Having the time of your life_

_See that guy_

Arthur tossed of the jacket angrily.

_Watch that scene_

_Diggin' the dancing king_

Arthur jumped in to the bed, tossing a pillow over his head. As he pulled the pillow away, he instantly regretted it. Matthew and Feliks were holding his vibrator and dildo respectively and singing into them.

_Friday night and the lights are low_

_Looking out for a place to go_

_Where they play the right music_

_Getting in the swing_

_You come to look for your co-king_

For some reason, Matthew deemed this time appropriate to grab his crouch and had begun rocking wildly.

_Anybody could be that guy_

_Night is young and the music's high_

_With a bit of rock music_

_Everything is fine_

_You're in the mood for a dance_

_And when you get the chance_

Arthur began rock to the beat, tossing the jacket back on.

_You are the dancing king_

_Young and sweet_

_Only seventeen_

_Dancing king_

_Feel the beat from the air guitar _

_You can dance_

Arthur jumped dramatically off the bed, grabbing his hair brush and singing along.

_You can jive_

_Having the time of your life_

_See that guy_

_Watch that scene_

_Diggin' the dancing king_

The trio slid down the stairs, the Canadian hitting his crouch roughly as he did so. They pranced out through the courtyard, attracting some stares from the staff. Arthur approached a young waiter, Spanish by the looks of it, and wrapped his arms around the young man's neck, flustering said barkeep. He pushed his face a bit closer to the man while Matthew and Feliks picked up his forgotten lyrics.

_You're a teaser, you turn 'em on_

_Leave 'em burning and then you're gone_

Arthur recoiled his arms, playfully blowing a kiss at the waiter. As the Brit and his friends continued on, the waiter chased after, followed by the crowd of Greeks that seemed to do nothing but stay in step behind important events in their boss's life.

_Looking out for another_

_Anyone will do_

_You're in the mood for a dance_

_And when you get the chance_

_You are the dancing king_

_Young and sweet_

_Only seventeen_

_Dancing king_

_Feel the beat from the air guitar_

_You can dance_

The crowd stepped excitedly on to the boardwalk, each step a boom with the mass amount of people.

_You can jive_

_Having the time of your life_

_See that guy_

_Watch that scene_

_Diggin' the dancing king _

_See that guy_

_Watch that scene_

_Diggin' the dancing king_

There was a moment of hesitation before Matthew and Feliks took hold of Arthur's hands and yanked him into the water. A loud splash was heard, shortly trailed by a shrill, British shriek. Three blonde heads popped up, two filled with cheer and one with anger.

"You wankers! That was reckless, ridiculous, dangerous, and . . ." Arthur paused, leaving his friends to fear the worst. To everyone's surprise, he grinned foolishly.

"We should do that again! It's quite a rad time," the English man stated, swimming back to the dock. The Pole and the Canadian exchanged confused glances but swam happily along anyways. They had their old Arthur back.

_*mon ami- my friend_

_**grande aventure- grand adventure_

_**Read and Review, my darlings!**_


	3. Summers Passed

**AN: I did a lot of song editing in this chapter and Super Trooper got cut completely and was replaced by I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend by The Ramones because I'm tired trying to make ABBA punk rock. And come on, guys, The Ramones are amazingly awesome, so celebrate! So, this chapter is somewhat cliff hangerish. In the next chapter, all the guys will figure out the reason they are here and I'm going to squeeze in some Giripan and Franada. You might even get some more LietPol! Okay, so yeah, don't own anything, enjoy.**

Peter's heartbeat quickened rapidly as he watched a boat pull away from a dock. On that boat, all of his dreams for a perfect wedding were sailing away.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath. To the shock of his friends, he ripped off his shirt and jumped into the water, swimming rapidly towards the boat.

"Peter!", Paulette and Raivis shouted after him. As the Brit continued to swim and ignore them, the girl and boy left the dock, sighing at the insanity of their friend.

"Wait!", Peter hollered at the boat. Kiku, Francis, and Alfred looked into the water. Alfred offered a ladder and a hand, getting Peter onto the boat.

"Don't worry, _mon cher_, we are just going around the island, not leaving," said Francis, smiling warmly.

"Yeah, we are just going to stay on the boat from now on. Your dad very forcefully rejected us from the boathouse," explained Alfred, adjusting his glasses.

"Oh, really? Sorry about dad. He's just . . . shocked. Tomorrow he'll be ready to talk. I'm sure he's so excited to see you all!", Peter replied, adding a little cheer to the end of the statement. Peter's eyes drifted to his dad's guitar in the boat. Kiku noticed the holding stare.

"I didn't stear it, I promise. I bought Arthur-san the guitar and I wilr give it back in due time. I used to sing to him with it and play for him so often," sighed the Asian. He picked up the guitar, strumming carefully.

"You don't strike me as the type to play punk rock," said Peter. Kiku shrugged.

"It was arr for your father, truly. I meet him in Tokyo and then forrowed him back here," he responded, strumming still as he went on.

_I can still recall_

_Our last summer_

_I still see it all_

_Walks along the city street_

_Laughing with whomever we would meet_

_Our last summer_

_Memories that remain_

Peter grinned fondly at the way Kiku sang of his father.

_We made our way along the stores_

_And we sat down in the grass by the Tokyo tower_

Alfred put his arm around Peter, adding a new voice to the medley

_I was so happy we had met_

_It was the age of no regret_

Francis smirked at the memories brought on by the statement and began to sing himself.

_Oh, yes_

_Those crazy years_

_That was the time of the punk rockers_

Francis winked at Peter, coyly sliding him a photo. Francis looked much younger in it and had one arm around Arthur, who, in complete punk rock grab, was squirming away from the Frenchman, and in his other hand, Francis held wine up, as if toasting to the picture. His lips were pressed gently to the Brit's temple and Arthur, despite his fighting to get away, smiled charmingly.

Alfred frowned unexpectedly.

_But underneath_

_We had a fear of flying_

Francis nodded, agreeing that the summers weren't as blissful as they made it seem.

_Of growing old_

_A fear of slowly dying_

_We took our chance_

_Like we were dancing our last dance_

By this point, the three men had created a circle around Peter and were all sharing their own personal memories of their time with Arthur. Alfred reached into to his shirt pocket and handed an aged photo to the young blonde. Peter looked it over, observing that it was his father around eighteen, wearing a ripped Sex Pistols t-shirt and thickly applied eyeliner with his blonde mop a mess, but intentionally so, and Alfred, also eighteen, dressed in an equally punk rock ensemble, although it seemed more for Arthur's benefit than his love of the music. The island filled the background. Peter grazed a finger across the photo, trying to find similarities between him and the American.

_I can still recall_

_Our last summer_

_I still see it all_

_In the tourist niche_

_Round the Rainbow Bridge_

_Our last summer_

_Walking hand in hand_

_Tokyo appeal_

_Our last summer_

_Morning sushi meals_

_Living for the day_

_Worries far away_

_Our last summer_

_We could laugh and play_

Peter reached his arms out for the guitar, receiving it from Kiku. He redid the tone with ease. Focusing on the darkest haired man, he began to sing.

_And now you're working in a bank_

Kiku sighed with a small, reserved nod.

_A family man, a football fan_

At the mention of football, the Asian shook his head rapidly in disagreement, his face full of alarm. Peter laughed.

_And your name is Kiku_

The man in question shook his head, passing a photo to Peter. The Tokyo tower filled the background of this one. Arthur had seemingly the same look about him but had a cigarette in his mouth in this one. At the thought of the high chance his dad was pregnant with him in the picture, Peter grimaced. Kiku had his arm placed shyly on Arthur's shoulders, the other supporting a guitar and a deep blush on his cheeks, smile hiding under his nervousness. He seemed freer in this picture.

_How dull it seems_

_Are you the hero of my dreams?_

"Peter!" a loud yell was heard from the sand. Peter looked up to see Michelle on the sand, waiting for him. He shot up.

"Thank you for a wonderful day. I have to go but please come tomorrow. It would mean so much to me!" Peter said, moving to the edge of the boat.

"Of course, Peter," said Francis in a charismatic tone.

"We will totally be there, dude!" cheered the American. Kiku nodded in answer. Peter jumped off the boat, splashing into the water and swimming toward the sand. He reached the beach, walking quickly to his bride.

"Where have you been? People are getting here and I need you to sort them out!" she yelled, balling her hands into fists. Peter was distracted momentarily by her tight neon green and blue striped bikini. He shook away his dirty mind and got back on track.

"I'm sorry. I've been around the island," he responded.

"I was worried that you had left without a goodbye for your stag party," stated Michelle. Her British accent was subtle but Peter could still catch it.

"Oh yes, my last night to be free," Peter smirked as Michelle's frown deepened and her groom changed his statement, "Or that is what I'd say if I was an arse, but I'm not. I see it as the last night before everything is perfect and right." Michelle giggled.

"That's better now," she said. Peter climbed up on a rock, looking down to his fiancée.

_I wasn't jealous before we met_

_Now every man that I see is a potential threat_

Peter hopped from the rock, approaching Michelle.

_And I'm possessive, it isn't nice_

_You've heard me saying that drinking was my only vice_

_But now it isn't true_

_Now everything is new_

_And all I've learned_

_Has overturned_

_I beg of you_

Michelle wrapped her arms around her lean man, adding her own part.

_Don't go wasting your emotion_

_Lay all your love on me..._

The tanned girl backed off him, sitting near a rock and making very "come-hither" faces towards Peter.

_It was like shooting a sitting duck_

_A little small talk, a smile and baby I was stuck_

_I still don't know what you've done with me_

She crawled toward Peter, closing the distance between them with a soft peck.

_A grown-up woman should never fall so easily_

_I feel a kind of fear_

_When I don't have you near_

_Unsatisfied_

_I skip my pride_

_I beg you dear_

_Don't go wasting your emotion_

_Lay all your love on me_

Slowly and gently, Peter lowered Michelle onto the ground, his body nearly pressed on hers. Their breathing thickened.

_Don't go sharing your devotion_

Headed by Raivis, the men of Peter's bachelor party came towards him, quite literally lifting him off Michelle. He huffed angrily but didn't fight it. Michelle just laughed and watched the men swim away with her almost husband.

_Don't go wasting your emotion_

_Lay all your love on me_

_Don't go wasting your emotion_

_Lay all your love on me_

_Don't go sharing your devotion_

_Lay all your love on me _

TIME LAPSING FOR REASONS OF TIME

"Maple! How did I do this twenty years ago?" Matthew asked no one in particular. He was currently trying to fit himself into tight as can be jeans with little success. Eventually, Arthur sighed and yanked the pants up on the Canadian legs, prompting pained shouts from the blonde.

"I think you were, like, skinnier back then, Mattie. Like, lay off the syrup," chuckled Feliks. Matthew slapped the Pole, rolling his eyes. Arthur took a tissue and smudged his deep eyeliner.

"Stop the bickering you bloody idiots! You are supposed to be getting ready, right?" stated Arthur, ruffling his hair to the desired intentional messiness. The said idiots were both nowhere near ready to perform. The Canadian man had just skinny red jeans on and boots and a cut-up white tank top with a red maple leaf plastered in center placed on the bed. Feliks had done his make-up (not surprisingly, the only one wearing mascara and blush as well) but still remained undressed, without anything even picked out. The pair sighed and Matthew pulled on his shirt and walked over the make-up area, putting some very light black rings around his eyes. The Brit of the group was completely ready. His outfit of choice was an old Sex Pistols t-shirt, a leather vest, ripped up black jeans with random assortments of safety pins in them, and red vans. The whole ensemble was old except the vans that were sneakily stolen away from Peter's closet. The crowd outside was hollering and cheering for a performance.

"Is ANYONE ready besides me?" Arthur yelled into the air of the room.

"Yes!" shouted Matthew from one bathroom.

"Like, uh, not quite," replied Feliks from another bathroom. Arthur puffed.

"You're terrible, you damned Pole," grumbled the Brit.

"I can, like, hear you, Arthur," said Feliks angrily.

"Oh shut it, Fel," spat Matthew as he tried to walk in two-sizes-too-small jeans and had added Canadian flag bracelets to the mix. Finally, the Polish man left his bathroom. He was dressed in black and white checkered jeans, a black, low cut t-shirt monopolized by a large unicorn the front, a metal choker, rainbow suspenders hanging loosely at his sides and neon pink painted nails to match his unicorn's horn. His hair was tied in a small pony and his face quite actually sparkled. It fucking sparkled.

"Oh dear lord, that's so gay, I can't even handle it. Just because you're actually gay doesn't mean you have to flaunt it so . . . blatantly," stated Arthur with a roar of laughter, in which Matthew joined. Feliks frowned.

"Well. . . you're a slut. And you're, like, fat. So there!" huffed out the Pole. The two just continued chuckling and Arthur grabbed a mike and handed two others to his band mates. The Brit began speaking into the mike.

"Good evening and welcome to Peter Kirkland's stag party!" he shouted. Cheers started up again.

"Welcome to your stage, the original punk rock gods-who are sorry they are late, by the way. Certain people who are Polish and shall not be named are quite fucking gay and stupid, causing the wait- Arthur and the," there was a pause for applause and general crowd noise making, "Axels!" Smoke filled the stage and the men pushed out from the curtain covering the dressing room.

"You stole my shoes, you bastard!" yelled Peter, jokingly.

"Oh, you never wear them anyways, shut up," stated Arthur before cueing the band. His back-ups each had their own guitars and released a beginning note that shook the hotel. The song wasn't there's originally but Arthur figured more people knew and loved The Ramones so why not give the crowd what they want? Besides, Peter adored the Ramones. Good boy that Peter was.

_Hey, little girl_

_I wanna be your boyfriend_

Everyone cheered in realization of the song. Well, they cheered more than they were before.

"That's my song!" exclaimed Peter. Once again, good boy Peter.

_Sweet little girl_

_I wanna be your boyfriend_

Alfred, Kiku, and Francis began entering the courtyard area and heard the band.

"Oh! Oh! That's our song, me and Artie," stated Alfred happily. Francis shook his head with a wide smirk.

"No, no, mon ami. That is my song with dear Arthur," he stated. Kiku scratched his head awkwardly.

"Arthur-san arawys said that was my song. I guess not then," he stumbled out sadly.

_Do you love me babe?_

_What do you say?_

Arthur's eyes shot to the men that had entered _**his**_ concert, the American rocking out bashfully. He wrapped his arms around his companions, trying to pull it off as a dance move and started gesturing for them to look over at his three ex-lovers. Matthew and Feliks chuckled.

"They're, like, totally sexy," whispered Feliks as Matt nodded in agreement. Arthur gave a massive pelvic thrust and nodded with a sigh.

_Do you love me babe?_

_What can I say?_

_Because I wanna be your boyfriend_

_Hey, little girl_

_I wanna be your boyfriend_

_Sweet little girl_

_I wanna be your boyfriend_

_Do you love me babe?_

_What do you say?_

_Do you love me babe?_

_What can I say?_

_Because I wanna be your boyfriend_

_Ooh-Oh Oh Oooh-Oh Ooh_

The men exaggerated their dances moves extremely and were getting ready for a grand finish.

_Because I wanna be your boyfriend_

_Hey, little girl_

_I wanna be your boyfriend_

_Sweet little girl_

_I wanna be your boyfriend_

They gave one last thrust into the air and bowed. Peter ran onto the stage, nearly tackling all the men in massive bear hug. Arthur hugged back gratefully.

"You liked it, poppet?" asked Arthur as Peter let go.

"Liked it? Dad, do you realize how much The Ramones mean to me? Do you realize what that song has done for me over the course of these twenty years? And you do the best bloody cover ever of it at my stag party? I'm pretty fucking happy!" answered Peter with so much joy it was almost crazed.

"That's great, sweetheart. That makes me very happy!" smiled the boy's father. They began to retreat off stage but not before Matthew made a final statement.

"Arthur's lovers," he said, Arthur cursing him and flushing red and the three suitors perking up in surprise, "Yes we see you. I'm sorry but you got to go. Ay?" Matthew rushed off stage before Arthur could viciously murder him.

Michelle was having some great fun herself. Her bachelorette party was currently in search for men to strip and unfortunately Francis and Kiku found themselves in said position. Well, unfortunate for Kiku, that is. A mob of girl's ran towards the pair at the bar and prying hands reached at them.

_Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight _

_Won't somebody help me chase the shadows away _

_Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight _

_Take me through the darkness to the break of the day _

As two of the possible fathers were stripped down, Peter went to search out Alfred. He sat, looking out on the roof and turned when Peter came up.

"Oh, hey Pete. I'm thinking I should go talk to your old man. He seems really pissed," said the American man. Peter rapidly shook his head.

"Uh, no, wait till I've gotten him shitfaced, alright?" he explained.

"You know, you left some of your drawings on the boat. They're very good. You should do something with them," stated Alfred with a grin. He held up a beautiful sketch of Arthur and smaller drawings of Alfred, Kiku, and Francis floating around the head in the center.

"Oh no that's nothing I-"Peter began before Alfred interjected loudly.

"No, you should do it. I used to draw like you. In fact, I drew this whole hotel on a plate for Arthur and promised him I'd come back," he said with a sadder than usual tone.

"Why didn't you, then?" pressed Peter. Alfred looked off the roof deeply.

"Does Artie ever talk about me, Pete?" he questioned longingly.

"No, I'm sorry," muttered Peter. Slowly, Alfred turned back to the young man.

"Why did you invite me?" he asked, seemingly cluing in to the fact there is big reason for his coming here. Peter went to answer before a window flew open.

"Because we bleeding need air, Feliks! Shut the fuck up!" The statement was heard from the upstairs and caused Peter to flee. Alfred watched as he did so, a strange new feeling of care rising inside of him.


	4. Anixety

Arthur sucked in a breath of air deeply as he forced a dusty old window open. Feliks and Matthew were currently sprawled out on the bed and trying to get the Canadian's pants off.

"It's not right, these idiots coming back. They are just ejaculations to me, simple as that. You know what? Someone up there," Arthur paused pointing wildly at the ceiling, "hates me. I'm pretty sure it's my parents." Matthew managed to sit up, barely, in constricting jeans.

"Just a joy, weren't they?" he joked at the Brit's parents. Arthur flopped onto the bed and next to Feliks.

"I need to go. I'm going to get them off the island," he stated, getting up. The Pole pushed him back down.

"Like, whoa there, drama king. Like, let's hold off. We need to, like, help fatty out of his jeans anyways," he said, poking Matt in the stomach.

"I'm not fat!" the shy blonde yelled defensively, "Now I'll unzip the zipper and you each grab a leg." His friends stood up and began pulling with no luck.

"So, here's the plan," explained Feliks as he yanked at the denim, "Tomorrow Mattie and I will take the men out then gently, like, kick them out. 'Kay?" Matthew chuckled from inside a mass of pillows that crowded his head.

"That sounds great. We should take them fishing," Matthew responded, remembering an incident when he had tried to take his pal fishing during a visit to his home in Canada. After a dip in lake water, Feliks decided fishing was not something he'd like to try out again. The Polish man shook his head.

"No," he responded shortly.

"Well, what the bloody hell else can you do with three men?" questioned Arthur. Feliks smirked.

"Now, that, like, totally takes me back," he muttered, filling it with innuendo, getting a glare from the shaggy haired Brit. Matthew was about to make a snide comment as the men fell as the jeans finally came off. He sighed in relief.

Kiku screamed, redness filling his cheeks, as women dragged him off to God knows where. Francis was talking beautifully to every lady in thick French, very pleased with the circumstances. Two girls handled each man, strapping them on to a pole and ripping at their clothes. Kiku forced his eyes to stay shut as girls grinded against him. Francis, on the other hand, was accepting each woman graciously and acting quite like a trained stripper.

"Mon ami! What are you doing? Open your eyes!" he yelled at the Asian next to him. Kiku winced as he felt a lick on his collarbone.

"I-I thought you were gay!" he stuttered back to the blonde. Francis laughed.

"Pansexual. Makes everything all the more fun," he responded happily. Kiku opened his eyes just a crack to see his leg exposed from a large tear in his pant leg. And his shirt was gone. He hadn't even felt that. The girls all squealed as Francis let them remove his jeans, leaving him with just a cross necklace and a pair of briefs.

_Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight _

_Won't somebody help me chase the shadows away _

_Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight _

_Take me through the darkness to the break of the day _

By this point, Kiku was working his arms out of the ropes around his wrists. He had almost got it before a girl came along and tightened them. The ebony haired gentlemen groaned.

_Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight _

_Won't somebody help me chase the shadows away _

_Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight _

_Take me through the darkness to the break of the day _

_Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight... _

_Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight... _

_Is there a man out there _

_Someone to hear my prayer _

Kiku had escaped and was crawling out under the table Francis had pinned himself to.

_Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight _

_Won't somebody help me chase the shadows away _

_Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight _

_Take me through the darkness to the break of the day_

Peter saw the man and quickly helped him up, leading him off to the bar.

"Alright?" he asked the Japanese man who seemed disheveled beyond repair. The man flattened the kinks in his hair, blowing a quick puff of air before responding.

"Eh . . . somewhat?" Kiku answered in an unsure way. The bartender approached.

"Do you need anything?" said the Greek man to Kiku with an endearing urgency. The Asian's head shot up, smiling at the handsome man before him.

"Oh no, I'm fine," he said as the waiter began to leave, "Wait! Don't go." The man raised an eyebrow and returned to the edge of the bar.

"May I . . . get you a drink?" asked the Greek.

"Um. . ." Kiku paused, "Do you have Saki?" The barkeep scrunched his face in confusion.

"Sa . . . ki? What? How about a beer?" he asked. Kiku shrugged and nodded. The Greek man left to behind the bar, searching for a fresh beer. Kiku's eyes drifted down to the younger man's ass as subtly as possible. Peter rolled his eyes and coughed pointedly.

"Mr. Honda?" he said, causing the Asian to jerk his head away from the firm backside.

"Oh. . . um. . . yes?" Kiku responded nervously.

"Just wanted to make sure you were still part of the conversation," an intense blushed flooded Kiku as Arthur said this, "So Kiku, do you have any children?" The Japanese man smiled lightly.

"Ah, no. Just Mako-san and Kiki. Those are my kittens. I rove cats," he responded. The Greek, whose name tag identified him as Harcules, grinned madly as he set a beer in front of the brunette.

"You love cats too? I have six cats here and ten with family members off the island," he said joyously.

"Rearry? That's wonderfur! The more cats the better," said Kiku. Peter groaned, feeling like he was being lost in the conversation.

"Thank you, Harcules, that's all we need," huffed the Brit in an annoyed manner. The olive skinned man took the note and nodded to Kiku.

"It was great to meet you . . . uh?" Harcules paused, at lose for a name. Kiku smiled shyly.

"It's . . .uh . . . Kiku, Kiku Honda," he stated, quickly reaching into his wallet and handing his Greek crush a business card. The said man took the card and winked in goodbye to the Japanese man. Kiku bit his lip as Harcules left. Peter started up the talk again.

"You were saying about your cats?" he said. Kiku bobbed his head.

"Uh-huh. I do love my cats, but I wish I could have had a child, especiarry a son. I would have taught him how to make origami and be a samurai," explained the Asian, chuckling at the idea. Peter felt his heart tighten, thinking that he could have possibly have found his father.

"Where is your father tonight, Peter-san?" Kiku questioned. Peter scratched at his hair line awkwardly.

"I-I don't know. I . . . I've never met my father," he muttered. The chocolate eyed man raised an eyebrow and looked ready to respond but was cut off as Peter was dragged off by the bachelorette party. They tossed him out along with Francis. The blonde flirt had a smug look on his face.

"I . . . really like your fiancée's friends, Peter. Very. . . adventurous women they are," said Francis. Peter laughed with raised brows.

"They're all around 20, you know this, right?" he reminded. The French man shrugged and smirked.

"Past my magic number, 18. How did Arthur get the money for this?" he asked the young English boy.

"Oh, he used to watch this old man on the mainland and he left my dad the money. I think it's the Peter I'm named for," he responded.

"Could it be . . . my great uncle Peter?" asked Francis. Peter shrugged.

"Eh . . . I guess, maybe?" he said. The French gentlemen gained a look of confusion.

"But my uncle's money was split up with family," there was a dramatic and crisp pause, "How old are you?"

"Twenty," shouted out Peter speedily. Francis began to speak but shook his head.

"I-I'm sorry, excuse me," he said, running up the stairs. Peter chased after him almost instantly and found him sitting on a rock atop the cliff, deep in thought.

"Mr. Bone-" Peter stopped, feeling too formal, "Francis?"

"I think I'm your father," he said in a low tone. Peter stepped closer to the rock.

"I would have to agree," he said. Francis stood up, nervously hugging Peter.

"Shall we announce it at the wedding then?" asked the Frenchman. Peter nodded and swallowed an anxious lump in his throat.

"Yeah," he said, stretching out the word. Francis leaned in, giving Peter one more hug, only barely less awkward than the first.

"I have a son," Francis muttered into the hug. Peter grinned. As he ran up the hill, Raivis grabbed him, reminding him their plan to sabotage the bachelorette party. The blonde nodded, slipping the mask he was handed over his head. He jumped down into the walled area, watching as the girls moved to the center of the patio, screaming loudly as they did. He looked around, seeing a half dressed Michelle dancing by herself. Peter offered her his hand and she gladly took it. Loud singing of the song, Voulez vous, ran through the background. Michelle pulled them into the center of the circle. Various couples spun too quickly around him. Francis winked at him, holding a positively giddy Matthew in his arms. Hercules twirled a nervous Kiku around and Feliks was kissing on the neck of the waiter, Toris. He saw Alfred staring at him.

"Michelle, why don't you go dance with my dad?" Peter shot out with an obvious tension in his voice. The tan lady raised an eyebrow but still nodded and walked off to find Arthur. Peter ran to the American, sensing the urgency in his eyes.

"Pete, how long have you known?" he yelled over the stomping and singing. Peter gave him a confused stare.

"Uh, known what?" Peter pondered. Alfred sighed angrily, like it was incredibly obvious. The British young adult had no idea what he was supposed to know.

"That I'm your dad, of course!" the glasses bearing blonde shouted. Peter's eyes widened. He had a bad case of ending up in troubling situations.

"Not long at all," he mumbled in an unsure way. Alfred laughed, pulling the short man into an overly long bear hug.

"Don't worry, son," the middle aged man grinned at the word 'son', "I'll tell everyone at the wedding." Peter nodded running back to the make shift dance floor. The dancers seemed to circle him as he did. Michelle broke off her dance with Arthur, prancing toward her beau.

"Okay, love?" she asked Peter, kissing his cheek.

"Yeah, just a little short of breath, that's all," he stated, kissing her back on the lips. Arthur noticed his son's heavy breathing, racing towards him. A wall of dancers held him back, rocketing him back towards Alfred. He stumbled and the American caught him, grinning like a lunatic.

"Shall we dance, Artie, baby?" the blue-eyed gent asked. Arthur fought but in the end just let Alfred hold him, his eyes never leaving Peter. Peter felt his head spin more with each dance move. Kiku watched from afar as sudden realization hit him. He gave Hercules a small apology and left his arms. The Japanese man grabbed Peter, pulling him off to the side.

"Peter-san, I berieve I'm your dad," he said excitedly, "I'll have a check and an announcement ready for tomorrow."

Peter felt his heart beat increase. Did they fucking plan this?

"Fuck!" he yelled to himself. Kiku's eyebrows flew up in shock.

"No son of mine wilr speak that way! We begin samurai training after the honeymoon," he stated, pacing off to find Hercules again. Peter closed his eyes, trying to focus mainly on breathing. He felt a gentle shove to his side and opened his eyes. Michelle was giving him a shy smile.

"You want to finish that dance?" asked the lovely young woman. Peter knew he probably shouldn't considering his current spinning mind. He nodded regardless. Michelle yanked him onto the floor. As the crowd circled them and Peter guided his fiancée in the dance, the events of the day began to sink in for the Brit. It weighed down on his mind and Peter fell to the floor, passed out. Everyone rushed to his aid, his supposed father pushing to the front of the mob.


End file.
